Here with another short story. I’ll like us to open a discussion about these things so yeah, leave a comment or mention me on Twitter with your thoughts @glahmiie
“All things are working together for your good” The Pastor had said on Sunday and I had so desperately wanted to believe him but looking into my mothers eyes now, I feel my hopes drop to the ground all around me in scattered broken pieces. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me, believe me she tried. I saw it in the delicacies she often tried make for me, in the tears she never let me see, the way she over compensated telling me “I love you” a dozen times a day as if saying it that many times would make it real.
“She reminds me of the whole rape incident Jude, I can’t do it, I’m falling apart. Every time I see her, I relieve his horrible hands groping my body, punching my lips to silence, kicking my legs to surrender. I relieve every single second”
I had overhead her saying those exact words to Uncle Jude the other night as she broke down into gut wrenching sobs, her tears forming a messy pool on his creased shirt. Uncle Jude is usually around so much that I used to think he was my Daddy but Mummy says he’s just her friend – a good friend and I believe her because Mummy never lies, except when she says she loves me.
I remember crying so hard that night that my eyes started to feel as if a whole big television was resting on it, my pillow was so wet that I had to sleep without it. I would hear mummy’s broken voice over and over in my head till it started to feel like I was getting injections all around my head and I hate injections. I hate that I was causing her so much pain and I was the reason she was crying so much. Thank God she’s pretty even when she cries. My teacher at school isn’t so pretty when she cries (Her face always looks like my teddy Bear after it has been trampled on when she cries, it’s not very pretty) Thank God Mummy is not like that. I just wish I could change things and make everything better.
I look in her eyes again and see no spark. She calls me her princess but she doesn’t believe it because all I’ll ever really be to her is a painful reminder of one the worst periods of her life and it’s my daddy’s fault, he destroyed her life. I hate that he’s my daddy, he’s evil. Uncle Jude says so many bad things happened because she decided to keep me and carry me “to term”
On days like these, days when I wonder what good could possibly be working out from this. I look at Mummy and wonder if it would have been better for her to have lost me in carriage because somehow even though she kept me “to term” a part of her still feels like she mis-carried (carried the wrong thing) and I have the rest of my life to pay for it. I want to run away.
So let’s discuss, what are your thoughts?
– What do you think one should do if they conceive after they’ve been raped?
– Let’s talk rape, do you think people understand the extent of the consequences of their actions? How do we get them to?
– Do we ever really move on or we learn to deal with the pain?
– If it happened to your family, friend or lover, what would be your reaction?
Leave me a comment or tweet at me. Looking forward to hearing from you💕